Some Notes on Focaccia

I've taken a break from photographing my cooking (which has been rather unexciting this week anyway), but there were some things I wanted to write about focaccia. 

Many people seem to think that focaccia and pizza are the same thing.  Because pizza is quite different from region to region in Italy, this does make sense.  In fact, focaccia can also be quite different from region to region.  My mother just told me today that many of her friends outside of Genoa (where she lives) request that she bring the Ligurian variety when she visits.

The two differ in their most basic forms, their "standards."  I believe the standard in Genoa is "normale" which is topped with olive oil and coarse salt (and is magical, by the way).  Whereas the margherita (named for Queen Margherita in the late 1800s when she visited Naples) set the standard for pizza in Italy by reflecting the tri-colored Italian flag with buffalo mozzarella, tomato sauce and basil. 

Note the awesome pizza knife.

Both pizza and focaccia doughs are made of water, yeast, oil, high-gluten flour and salt.  And focaccia dough can be used as a pizza base.  Also, both doughs can be found topped with a variety of ingredients, though in the U.S. the standard is tomato sauce and cheese.  This is still my favorite and I ordered this basic version of pizza twice in Italy, at two different restaurants. 

Note the impossibly thin crust.

Enough about pizza.  It's making me hungry for pizza I can't get in the U.S. and that is just not fair.

Let's get back to focaccia.  In Italy, focaccia is a regular snack.  You can find it at any and every bakery in a variety of flavors.  I had a small piece of focaccia, a Pink Lady apple and a cup of espresso for breakfast every day that I was there.  The secca (dry) was particularly good for scooping up Caponata, which my mom made for me only after much harassment.

If you live near San Francisco and you'd like to try Ligurian focaccia, go to Liguria Bakery on the corner of Stockton and Filbert in North Beach before 9am.  If you go any later, you won't have that many options left (or they'll be completely sold out, usually by 1030am).  I've heard that this bakery supplies most of the city's Italian restaurants with the focaccia they put in their bread baskets.  The rosemary and garlic one is my favorite.

If you are, however, in Genoa...oh, there are so many amazing kinds.  My favorites were normale (coarse sea salt and olive oil), salve (sage, which was amazing) and secca (dry, which lasts longer than the others, so we always buy a ton of it).  I also tried zucchini focaccia, olive focaccia and pepperoni focaccia.  Pepperoni is not a meat, by the way.  It actually means bell peppers.  The girl helping us at the bakery by my mom's apartment found this American mistranslation hilarious.  I suppose it's like "pudding" in the U.S. versus in the U.K...no, it's worse.

In any case, you can find focaccia in grocery stores in the U.S., but I've never had one that was anything close to what I had in Italy.  Liguria Bakery or another bakery known for its bread is probably your best bet.  The fresher, the better.  If I could afford to drive to San Francisco every morning (except Sunday) to buy focaccia, I would do it.  Since I can't, my aim is to fiddle around with a few recipes until I can make something akin to the kind made at the bakery down the street from my mother and stepfather's apartment in Genoa.  Hopefully it won't end up being one of the recipes I found which has quite a bit of lard in it.

Basic Focaccia by Carol Field

I tried to make focaccia for the first time last month.  I did not calculate the time it would take first, so when I started in the early evening, I had no idea that I would still be waiting for the damn thing to rise when I was already sleepy. 


It turned out looking like this:

Gorgeous, right?  I could have used that slab o' yeast and flour to do serious damage to someone's car.  I'm not saying I did, I'm just saying I could have.  Ya know, if I wanted to...

Anyway, when I made it this time I had an expert baker with me to offer advice.  I owe my current focaccia success to Meg (a.k.a. Sugar Biscuits).

I used Carol Field's "Basic Focaccia" recipe from her book Focaccia: Simple Breads from the Italian Oven.  You can find some adaptations of her recipes online, like this: http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/focaccia_bread_with_rosemary/ or pick up the book I used for yourself: http://www.amazon.com/Focaccia-Simple-Breads-Italian-Oven/dp/0811806049. 

For those of us who are not so comfortable in the kitchen:
Read the recipe and make sure you have not only all the ingredients, but all the right equipment.  I started out using the melamine bowls (the blue ones pictured on either side in the photo above), but realized two flaws with them.  First, plastic wrap does NOT like to stick to them.  So when you need to cover your dough tightly...well, let's just say that is not going to happen for you if you use melamine.  Second, you can't microwave melamine.  It doesn't matter for this recipe (and I don't own a microwave), but it still sucks.  Go out and get yourself some Pyrex at a garage sale or something.  I heart Pyrex.

Ahem.  I made the "sponge" for the focaccia without taking photos, since you do almost the same thing when you make the dough (which you add the sponge to).  So let's start with the yeast and a bit of warm water:

When you whisk the two together, the yeast may still settle on the bottom.  Don't worry, after you let it alone in the bowl for ten minutes, it will have come together.  Also, the temperature of the water should be decidedly warm without being hot.  My mom talked about temperatures as if I was supposed to understand what the heck she was talking about or pull out a thermometer, but I did neither.  And I still made focaccia.  And it still tasted good.  But you should listen to my mom.  (Lord knows, I'm not going to.)  She knows what she's talking about.  The rest of this story will be done with the help of lots of photos (thanks to Megan for taking them while my hands were covered in olive oil):

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Adding the yeast mixture and olive oil to the sponge.

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Which makes it look sort of soupy, but then you start bulking it up with some flour.

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Then salt and some more flour, till you get...dough!

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And this is where you get really excited because you've never made bread dough before, so you pose it and take photos.  Then you knead it till it feels like velvet...and take more photos.

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Then you oil up a bowl, store the dough inside it, slap on some plastic wrap and introduce it to its new friends, in your refrigerator.
First rise (to double it) is about an hour and fifteen minutes.

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And this is where you become very grateful that you have a friend around who is willing

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to take pictures, although you wish you were photographing her hands instead.

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Right, so here the focaccia has been stretched just a bit to try to fit the pan, but it's about to have some time to relax (covered with a towel, as you can see), which will allow it to expand a bit more.

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Here we go, shaping it again.  And this time it's been pushed and prodded and finally fits.

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Above left is the dough right before second rise.  It gets covered with the towel again and here Meg advised me to preheat the oven and put the focaccia on the stovetop.  Yeast loves warmth and, at this point, you want it to expand, filling with air bubbles.  I neglected to take a picture of the salting, oil drizzling and poking process, but you can see in the above right photo that it's been done.  I was very careful (this time, at least) to push holes into the dough without removing all the air bubbles, because you need both.  Unless you want to make a large inedible cracker.

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It may not look very thick, but this 2nd try is about an inch thicker than the 1st one.  And it's a lovely golden brown.  This sucker can feed up to 12 people, but it goes stale fast since it doesn't have preservatives in it.  Bread storage bags can only do so much.  I am very happy with the results I got from this recipe, which means I'm ready to try the one I really want to be able to make: Focaccia al'Olio, the Genovese kind.

Yum.

Risotto with Zucchini, Cherry Tomatoes and Kalamata Olives

Note to self: That's an awfully cluttered kitchen counter.

I set up and prepped a ton of soffrito (onion, carrot and celery), since I needed to stick some in my freezer for future dishes (work hard today so I can be lazy every other day). I prepared myself for this by drinking three espresso shots with some agave syrup and a bit of warmed almond milk.  Seeing as how I'm writing about this at 1:14 am, I must still be paying for that.

Meg came over with a gorgeous Hazelnut Cake (from the Silver Spoon for Children cookbook I ordered last month but only used once), which she let me photograph as she sifted powdered sugar onto it. 

Even prettier than the one in the book

Soffrito

Jenn arrived just as I was finishing prepping my soffrito.  If you have never heard of such a thing, maybe you would recognize this trio of aromatics as a mirepoix (French) or a trinity (Cajun).  It's onion, celery and carrots chopped fine and used as a base for sauces, soups, you name it.  The main difference between the three is the size you chop them (and that may just vary on the dish you're making) and ratio.  I used one yellow onion, two carrots and three celery stalks, then froze three cups of it (individually) and used the last cup for my risotto.

It could've used more olives and less zucchini...

My mom writes great directions...But let's not pretend that I'm good at paying attention to any of them.  I didn't want to put green beans or peas in my risotto because I'm willful, so I put a whole extra zucchini in the saute pan (and this is overcrowded, so don't copy me) with the recommended coupla tomatoes and a bunch of olives.  

          
 

 Cook the soffrito until the onion is transparent, not brown like in this picture (oops).  You want the onions to melt into the dish, especially if you're a hater, like me.

Then you throw in the rice, getting it coated with a bit of oil and you're ready to start adding the chicken broth (which has been sitting on its own burner in a big pot, just waiting to make its grand entrance).  You stir in a small amount at a time, then wait for it to evaporate.  Your pan should sizzle each time you add it.  I was really paranoid while I was cooking this and will probably be paranoid about this part of the process until I've made risotto about a dozen times more.

Once you've added most of the broth and tested the risotto (just barely al dente), it's time to add whatever you choose to add to it.  I've had excellent risotto that only had parmesan, salt and pepper but did not seem lacking.  You can add virtually anything you want to this dish, but there are specific regional recipes, as well.  I'm sure there are many Italians who would be horrified at what I add to my risotto.  Just wait till the Genovese find out that I like fresh tomatoes on my pesto.  I'll never be allowed in the country again.

  And done...et voila!  How do you say that in Italian? 

By the way, this would have been better if I'd been seasoning it while it cooked.

That there's my first risotto, you guys

Thanks to the lovely Young ladies for sharing this dinner and their family with me.  Thanks to Meg for making a gorgeous cake to go with it.  And thanks to my mom for teaching me how to cook long-distance.

                                                                  

Mom's Basic Risotto Recipe

1 1/2 cup arborio or carnaroli rice

6 cups of good chicken stock, simmering in a separate pot

1/2 cup white wine (optional)

1 onion chopped fine Or 1 cup soffrito

1 garlic clove, minced

parmegiano reggiano

salt, pepper to taste

Heat a 12 inch saute pan over medium heat (should have straight sides, but not imperative).  When hot, add 2 Tbsp of good olive oil, add garlic and saute until fragrant but not brown (20-30 seconds).  Then add the onion (soffrito) and saute gently until the onion is transparent, but not brown.  Keep an eye on the heat.  Then add the rice and stir quickly until covered in a light coating of oil.  You can add a tiny bit more if you need it.  Cook the rice for 2-3 minutes on medium, then add the wine.  Stir until the wine has evaporate completely.  At this point, you are going to start adding the stock.  Here's how that goes:

Add about 1/2 a cup of stock to the rice, stirring constantly.  When the stock has completely evaporated, add another 1/2 cup and stir until completely evaporated.  When you add the stock, the pan should sizzle.  If it doesn't, the other stock hasn't evaporated.  That's how you'll know if you're doing it at the right time.  Continue this way for about 20 minutes, being careful not to let the rice stick to the pan.  I set a timer so I can keep track.  At this point, taste the rice to see if it's cooked to your liking.  If not, keep going.  The rice should not be soupy, but it shouldn't be solid either.  It should move on the plate.  If it's too thick, just add a little more stock until it's the consistency that you want.  Don't worry if you have stock left over.

Add the parmegiano, salt and pepper to taste and eat it until your eyes pop out.

Puttanesca alla Fettucine Rigata

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Since this was the first sauce I'd made in years, I decided to avoid cookbooks (for the first week, at least).  I have a few really wonderful cookbooks that have great explanations, but asking my mom for one of her own meant I could pester her with dozens of questions about minor details, if I needed to.  I wanted a good tomato sauce for pasta, but it wasn't until we got started talking about the variety of sauce recipes at our disposal that I

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realized how long it's been since I have had a good puttanesca.  This is a rich, bold sauce (spicy, tangy and a bit salty), but it somehow manages not to overwhelm - something that always impresses me about Southern Italian cooking.  Puttanesca also has another name: "whore's pasta," which appears to have originated in Naples.  I think that might actually be a translation, not a nickname...  Anyway, a lot of the food I had while in Genoa was very traditional, even old-world (for example, farinata: a chick pea pancake that I believe our friend Carlo said soldiers once cooked on their shields).  But puttanesca appears to have been invented some time between the mid 1950s and early 1960s.  With all of these random thoughts and lovely memories of the Italian market we went to at the Porto Antico in my head, I began. 

The pinch bowls here show everything you need to make a good puttanesca:  garlic, anchovy paste, capers, olives, canned whole tomatoes, olive oil and some basil (which is optional).

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First, I sauteed the garlic, adding the anchovy paste before the garlic had a chance to brown.  Then I added the canned whole tomatoes (the whole can) one at a time by squeezing them through my fingers into the pan.

NOTE: There is too much oil in that pan and the heat is way too high. Olive oil/tomato juice backsplash burns like a mother*.

All that needed to simmer for 15 minutes, with occasional stirring.  It gets nice and thick at this point - and there's more to follow!

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Next I added the olives and capers...a note here, you can add as much of both of these ingredients as you damn well please...and let that simmer for the last five minutes (although I believe I only needed two minutes). 

This gave Meg (my dinner guest/guinea pig) time set her face right over the pan and inhale all that goodness.

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NOTE: Know your pasta cooking time.  I only have one big burner on my range (that's what living in an apartment gets you), so I have to put the water on before I even start the sauce, but most of the time it won't take you more then 8-10 minutes.  If you have a gas range, that's probably way too much time, you lucky bastards.  If you want to take advantage of every flavor this meal has to offer, learn to cook your pasta "al dente."  And remember that pasta is not just a vehicle for sauce, it has its own range of flavors, subtle though they are.  Also, most of the Italian cooks I know use dried pasta, so don't feel like you have to go out and buy a fresh pasta maker or attachment for your KitchenAid just to make a great meal.

Finally, I tossed in some fettucine rigate and let the whole mess spend some quality time together in the pan.  Most of the people I know put pasta on the plate, then add sauce.  It makes me sad in my soul.  Those flavors deserve to spend time together before they go in your mouth.  Not only that, you deserve it.  You deserve the goodness that is a well-married pasta dish.  Just make sure your pasta isn't too cooked, because it is going to keep on cookin' while it hangs with the sauce. 

NOTE:  Per my mother, Italians (at least Northern ones) "dress" the pasta, as opposed to drenching it in sauce.  I thought I could never do this, but having changed that habit, I can't imagine eating it any other way.

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Meg told me that she didn't like hers at all, but it mysteriously vanished before I could get through even half of mine.  She lies sometimes, our Meg.

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Mom's Puttanesca Sauce (with notes from Turtle)

olive oil
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp anchovy paste
1 lg or 2 sm cans whole tomatoes
a bunch of pitted kalamata olives and/or green olives - whole or sliced
1-2 Tbsp well-rinsed capers (or more if you you like them)

Heat a 12 inch saute pan on medium.  When hot, add 2-3 Tbsp of olive oil.  Quickly add the garlic and cook until fragant (20-30 seconds), then add anchovy paste and smash around for a minute or two.  Make sure the temperature isn't too high.  Add the tomatoes by crushing them ,one at a time, in your hand as you add them to the pan (you will not need the leftover juice in the can, squeezing the tomatoes will provide juice enough).  Simmer slowly for about 20 minutes.  Add the olives/capers, and cook for a few minutes until heated through.  The sauce should be thick and chunky.  Salt and pepper to taste.

Possible additions:

Toasted pine nuts
Golden raisins soaked in warm water for 15 minutes
Basil chiffonade (put in at the end, just before serving, or it will wilt away the greenness)